


and your sweet sweet sun makes me crazy (i wanna lay you down and see how you amaze me)

by zeitgeistofnow



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, Getting Together, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Post-Canon, Sparring, author LOVES pining but she also loves the knowledge that you both love each other, but like... after sparring. when they r sleepy, even if you haven't made out (yet), gratuitous descriptions of sunlight because i'm soft, naps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24726643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeitgeistofnow/pseuds/zeitgeistofnow
Summary: sokka stretches out a little more and purrs in the back of his throat. he lets the warmth of the sun soak into his bones. firebenders may get their power from the sun and waterbenders from the moon, but sokka isn’t either. he just likes laying in beams of light like… an spirit. or a sleepy performer. or a… hm.“sunflower,” zuko suggests from somewhere behind him and only then does sokka realize he’d been talking aloud. he laboriously pulls himself into an upright position, taking care not to leave the spot where the sun bleeds through a hole in the foliage above him, and looks over at zuko. the other boy is sitting, forearms braced on his thighs, on an old stone bench. another ray of sunlight- one that sokka hadn’t even noticed- curls around his shoulders. he offers sokka a tired smile. “you’re not pretty enough for a spirit.”
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 65
Kudos: 737





	and your sweet sweet sun makes me crazy (i wanna lay you down and see how you amaze me)

**Author's Note:**

> the title is from _sweet sun_ by milky chance which is a pretty zukka song. in my opinion. also i just like it cuz it makes me feel calm

The mid afternoon sun is warm against Sokka’s back and the dirt underneath him is… well, also sun-warmed, just dustier and there are tiny rocks poking into his ribs. He doesn’t mind, however, and he knows he’s too exhausted to struggle into a more upright position. And the sunshine feels _so_ good, so different than the firebending Sokka had been dodging a moment earlier. 

Sparring keeps them both in good shape since the war ended, and in the Fire Nation it’s still a status symbol to have the kind of muscles Zuko can only maintain by throwing swords at consenting Water Tribe ambassadors. 

Sokka had gotten hot- too hot- with the exercise and had tossed his overshirt in a nearby stream. It had cooled him down while he was still ducking under fireballs and it had made a pleasant hissing noise whenever a spark came in contact with it, but once they were finished he only had a tank top and a wet, sweaty, shirt. And the wind had picked up and now his shirt is useless and covered in mud _,_ and Sokka is _cold._ His shirt sits in a gross pile in a corner of the clearing and he basks in the cool warmth of the sun. 

Sokka’s tempted to do the tiny routine he used to do at the North pole whenever he found and especially nice patch of sunlight- curl and stretch and flop around until he felt suitably warmed on all parts of his body and had also looked like a cat and a land-trapped skunkfish all at once- but he thinks Zuko might find it a little weird and he doesn’t even think he can find the energy for it.

Instead, he stretches out a little more and purrs in the back of his throat. He lets the warmth of the sun soak into his bones. Firebenders may get their power from the sun and waterbenders from the moon, but Sokka isn’t either. He just likes laying in beams of light like… an spirit. Or a sleepy performer. Or a… hm.

“Sunflower,” Zuko suggests from somewhere behind him and only then does Sokka realize he’d been talking aloud. He laboriously pulls himself into an upright position, taking care not to leave the spot where the sun bleeds through a hole in the foliage above him, and looks over at Zuko. The other boy is sitting, forearms braced on his thighs, on an old stone bench. Another ray of sunlight- one that Sokka hadn’t even noticed- curls around his shoulders. He offers Sokka a tired smile. “You’re not pretty enough for a spirit.”

“Wow, _thanks,”_ Sokka says, but there’s no irritation behind it. If he’s figured out anything the past few years is that constant mild insults are just how Zuko rolls with people he’s comfortable around. When he’d finally graduated from stiff compliments to nervous insults to whatever this is, Sokka had been thrilled. Besides, he thinks, being compared to a sunflower is hardly an insult.

“I would hardly be a good friend or Fire Lord if I wasn’t honest,” Zoku says, and stretches. Sokka’s brain bypasses most of the sentence to focus on two things: the word _friend,_ because it’s been years and Sokka still gets a fuzzy-happy feeling in his chest with Zuko calls him a friend _,_ and the way Zuko flops sideways a moment later, adjusting minutely until he’s lying down on the stone. A few more moments of calculation and he decides that how warm Zuko looks- warmer even than the sunlight- is more important.

He scooches closer to Zuko and the other boy watches him warily. Sokka watches back, smiling guilelessly. Then he stretches his legs and falls up on top of Zuko, nuzzling his head beneath the other boy’s chin and slotting one of his legs between Zuko’s. Zuko _is_ warm, he’s unsuprised to find, like rocks that have been lying in the sun all day. Sokka hums happily and starts to rub circles onto the back of Zuko’s hand, trying to dispel the tension Sokka can feel in his abdomen. 

“Sokka,” Zuko says carefully, and Sokka can feel the rumble of his voice. “What are you doing?”

“Was cold,” Sokka mumbles. “You’re warm.” He can feel himself nodding off. The couple hours of running and jumping and stabbing and everything else that comes with sparring Zuko left him exhausted. The sun is warm on his back and Zuko is warm beneath him and he can only barely hear the ever present squawking of raven eagles in the background. This is as good as the Fire Nation gets, he thinks, and then Zuko slowly relaxes and wraps a careful arm around Sokka’s back and Sokka can hardly contain his grin. 

“Okay,” Zuko says, finally letting exhaustion sneak its way into his voice.

They both nod off in a few minutes and don’t wake up for hours.

Sokka doesn’t have a crush on Zuko. He knows what having a crush is like, how your heart goes _fuckfuckfuckspirtFUCKINGdamnit_ whenever the person in question comes within your sightline, how talking to them feels like having your heart coughed up out of your body in a way that somehow also feels like butterflies. 

He knows that if he had a crush on Zuko this kind of touch- this full bodied cuddle, Zuko’s arms around Sokka and Sokka’s hands lazily twisted through Zuko’s hair like mated otter penguins sunning themselves- would drive Sokka absolutely insane. 

He knows that if he had a crush on Zuko, the way Zuko easily drapes himself over Sokka when he gets drunk at parties, the way he leans closer to gossip about Important Government Officials, the way he _smiles_ would fills Sokka’s belly with so many butterflies that he’d be coughing them up for days.

So, no, Sokka doesn’t have a crush on Zuko. It’s something different, more familiar and softer. A feeling that allows him to be close to Zuko in an easy way, just… sometimes when Zuko murmurs things to him at galas, an expertly earthbent wine glass dangled between his fingers, Sokka thinks mildly about how easy it would be to cup his jaw in one of Sokka’s hands and kiss him. And sometimes when they’re inches apart in the middle of a sparring match Sokka wants to grab the other boy’s waist and fall over together like the perpetually horny teenagers they are.

It’s not a feeling that’s any more or less important than the kind of friendship Sokka feels for Toph or Aang or his sister or anyone else, it’s just different. A good kind of different, Sokka decided months ago. He could definitely get behind making out with his best friend, he just needs the right moment. And there are _constant_ right moments.

And Sokka misses _every single one._

It’s not that he’s nervous, or that he doesn’t think the Fire Lord… reciprocates his feelings. He _knows_ Zuko feels the same way because it’s not a crush. It’s not a crush, it’s something softer and brighter that happens _because_ Zuko looks at him the same way. It’s a feeling entangled with the knowledge of it’s inevitability. Both Sokka and Zuko are just waiting for it to happen but Sokka keeps getting distracted. Or he falls asleep, or an angry chicken lizard will come running through the hallway and the moment is never quite right. 

Sokka can wait, though. He’s happy like this, curled up in the sunlight with one of the most powerful people in the world.

Sokka wakes up first and decides that he absolutely doesn’t need to move. He is perfectly comfortable like this and Zuko’s breathing doesn’t seem labored by his weight so he sees no reason to get up. Sure, he has dumb things like ‘responsibilities’ and ‘national power’ but right now he is _warm_ and close to one of the people he loves most in the world so Southern Water Tribe Abassador Sokka is _not_ moving. 

Except his right arm is dangling awkwardly, now that he thinks about it, so he will move a little bit.

Sokka shakes his arm a tiny bit to get rid of the heaviness of sleep and tries to map out where he ends and where Zuko begins, where each of their limbs are situated, where the bench drops off and the vague emptiness of air opens. He settles on tucking it beneath Zuko’s neck and presses a little bit closer to the other man. Zuko makes a soft noise and pulls Sokka closer. Another sleep noise and Zuko relaxes. 

Sokka smiles into Zuko’s neck and closes his eyes. He’s not going to fall asleep again. His muscles feel stiff and lazy from the late afternoon nap, but his cells scream to him that they are well rested, that it is time to do more work.

 _No,_ Sokka thinks, _now is the time to bask in comfort. And maybe try to remember that weird dream I was having with the ceremonial earrings and otter penguin races._

Zuko wakes up after Sokka remembered his dream, forgot it again, and thought through every diplomatic dispute that had been brought to him in the last month. He stretches his arms first, then yawns and flutters his eyes open, smiling up at Sokka. The smile comes almost before he opens his eyes, an automatic response to the weight of the other boy and the warm light falling on both of them. 

“You’re haloed,” he says, his voice raspy with sleep.

Sokka smiles back. “What was that about me not being pretty enough to be a spirit?”

“You’re gorgeous,” Zuko says after a pause. His eyes are golden and shining and his smile is comfortable and easy and something tells Sokka that _now._ Now is the right time. 

But Zuko’s arms are already back between Sokka’s shoulder blades, gently tugging him down and closer to Zuko, and Zuko’s eyes are already lightly closed again and his mouth is already open slightly and Sokka realizes it was never going to be him that made the first move. Of course it wasn’t. 

They kiss and Zuko tastes like figs and the warm spice of fire and then they break away, breathing lightly and then they kiss some more and then they fall off the bench. Sokka yelps when his thigh hits a rock and Zuko rolls away, laughing to himself. 

Sokka feels any expression of pain melt off his face as he watches Zuko laugh with a kind of awe. It’s not like he never watches Zuko laugh, or as if he never watches Zuko laugh with the knowledge that he could, if he wanted, crawl over and kiss the corner of Zuko’s mouth. It just never gets old, how Zuko’s good eye crinkles at the corner and his face breaks open suddenly. It always looks like the laugh is a surprise to Zuko, no matter if it’s a light snort at a mostly unfunny joke Sokka had made or a roaring belly laugh.

Zuko smirks when he manages to stop laughing and sit up properly. “You didn’t think I’d make the first move,” he says, and it’s just a little bit accusing. 

“Nah,” Sokka says, moving to lie with his head in Zuko’s lap. 

“I didn’t either,” Zuko admits, then his smirk is back. “You just never did anything. I had to do _something._ ”

Sokka rolls his eyes. “Whatever,” he says. “You look beautiful in the sunlight.” And Zuko does. Firebenders are more powerful under the sun, he’d learned, but there’s also something to be said about the way their features suit it better than any other people, the way the light drapes over the face like a veil, the way it plays across their hands like weightless rings, uncapturable riches beyond Sokka’s imagination. Zuko always looks like royalty, but he looks _godlike_ in the sun. 

Zuko flushes and bats away the compliment. Tiny specs of dust, illuminated in the slowly dying light, swirl around his hand the same way sparks do. “Whatever, Sokka.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- ok i love.. sun imagery. and sun-related metaphors. and sunflowers and sunlight and warmth and wow!! and these two are PERFECT for it. they were MADE for sun imagery. especially zuko. like normally the emo one is the moon but NO firebenders get their power from the sun. exciting. i love it. 10/10  
> \- sokka is like wow!! my best friend is sleepy and NO ONE IS CUDDLING WITH HIM?? it's free real estate babes  
> \- as always, comments and kudos make my day!! you can find me on tumblr [@lazypigeon](https://lazypigeon.tumblr.com/). i hope u all have a good day. or night. or tomorrow. :0)


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